


Clexthology

by commandmetobewell



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, specific tags in each chapter note
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 01:29:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8646418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commandmetobewell/pseuds/commandmetobewell
Summary: A collection of Clexa drabbles, prompts, and one-shots from my tumblr/ask box @ a-class-act-president. Send me a prompt and I'll do something with it. Anything, really.





	1. An Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From tumblr: "Z. Clexa: An Ending". 
> 
> This is a slight canon divergence with angst and a happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Major Character Death.
> 
> Alright let's start this shit show off with a sad one from my tumblr. I'm gonna write a separate prompt right after this that I got from like eons ago, and that one is happy.
> 
> I am dead on the inside as a forewarning.

Lexa doesn’t talk to her after the meeting with the ambassadors.

Unfortunately, after Pike so violently declared his rejection of the brand, _Skaïkru_ had no other choice than to remove themselves from the Commander’s coalition. Clarke found herself locked away in the spare room, wasting her time drawing and sketching the city skyline while the fate of her people laid in the hands of the one woman who nearly brought it to an end only months ago.

It’s not that she doesn’t trust Lexa, per say. She does trust her, but the betrayal is still fresh. The pain is still raw, the wound still scabbing over. But the torment eases, and with it the nightmares, in each moment she spends surrounded by Lexa’s presence. The grounder had this calm, almost peaceful aura to her when she strode around the city streets. And despite Clarke offering nothing but the cold shoulder (and even a knife to the throat), Lexa never ceases her affection. 

But two days ago, after they returned from the massacre, Lexa’s presence had been scarce, to say the least. She tried to visit her in her chambers or the throne room, but she was always turned away by an irate Titus or one of the growling guards that stood outside the doors. By this point, Clarke knows that something major has gone down, but she’s unsure of what exactly it is. By the churning anxiety in the pit of her stomach, Clarke knows something is wrong.

And she’s right, when later that night, there’s a knock at her door.

When she opens the heavy wooden barrier, her breath gets caught in her throat.

“Lexa?”

The Commander doesn’t look like she’s slept in the last two days. Deep bags line the underside of her tired green eyes. Her bones threaten to poke through the pale exterior of her skin, leaving her worse for wear. Lexa’s chest heaves slowly, in and out, in and out, in a less-than-rhythmic manner. It’s almost like each breath is a conscious effort for her to stay alive. Her hands are trembling lightly as they remain clasped in a vulnerable fold above her waist.

She looks absolutely exhausted.

“Clarke,” Lexa speaks, her voice coarse from either lack of use or overuse. It looks like she wants to say more, but no words come out. Clarke tries to be as off-putting as usual, to seem like she isn’t affected by Lexa, but she can’t do it.

Not when Lexa looks like the world is about to end at her feet.

“May I…,” Lexa stumbles over the words nervously, “um, come inside?”

“Sure,” Clarke answers without hesitation, parting ways to allow Lexa inside. The woman walks cautiously, like she’s never seen this room before. She twiddles her fingers, much like an awkward teenager. It hits Clarke then, that Lexa can’t be much older than herself. She looks vastly different with no war paint or armour, and Clarke remembers vividly the first time she’d seen Lexa stripped down to the timid girl with a shy smile and cautious eyes a week ago.

“Are you alright?” Clarke asks as she shuts the door. “What’s going on?”

Lexa pauses, spine stiff and ramrod straight. She works her jaw and swallows.

“Your people are safe, Clarke.” She turns her head, only slightly. “Do not worry.”

A part of Clarke is relieved, but still she has to ponder. “How?”

“Deliberation,” Lexa says softly, before adding an even quieter, “compromise.”

“Lexa?” Clarke asks, voice hoarse. “What happened?”

Lexa opens her mouth, like she wants to explain, but the words die on her lips. Clarke manages to guide her to the sofa, trying to ignore how Lexa’s shaking like a leaf. Swallowing down her own worry, she rubs Lexa’s knee and squeezes her thigh soothingly. Lexa’s head snaps up and she flinches, staring at Clarke’s hand with wide eyes like it’s some sort of foreign object. She sighs a little and closes her eyes before building up those walls again, high and heavily fortified.

“I am selfish,” Lexa whispers after some silence, blinking open her eyes. Clarke frowns at her evasive answer, and for a second, the anger is back again.

“What did you do?” Clarke demands in a low hiss. “Lexa, what–”

“I will turn twenty-one soon,” Lexa interrupts shakily, her lips trembling as she looks to her lap. The defeated tone of her voice is what throws Clarke off guard. The frustration simmers down until it’s completely gone when Lexa takes a breath. The brunette looks up, offering a flimsy, so obviously forced smile.

“This summer,” Lexa continues, “on the solstice. Titus said it was an auspicious sign that I would become the new Heda. I believe Indra agreed with him.”

“Lexa–”

“Cillian was the first man I killed,” Lexa continues like she can’t stop the words from tumbling out, “I had seen only twelve summers. We were out hunting and he tried to assassinate me. He had been a close ally to me, and more importantly, he was Indra’s brother. When he betrayed us in the ambush, Indra hadn’t managed to kill him. I… I wanted to spare her the pain so I killed him.”

Clarke swallows as Lexa looks to her hands with disgust. “I vomited after the life flickered out of his eyes. Indra refused to speak to me for weeks, called me a monster. I never thought that I would get over the feeling of death upon my fingertips or the sight of blood that I had spilt. Each kill became worse, and then it just became something numb. As if I was nothing but a Reaper, a murderer.”

Lexa’s eyes glass over and she looks at Clarke with such sadness that it nearly causes Clarke to keel into the older woman with the depth of sorrow in those green eyes. Lexa parts her lips, some of those tears sliding down her cheeks.

“I tried to be good,” Lexa chokes out with a crack in her voice, “I wanted to be good. I wanted peace for my people. I wanted them to live without the shadows of war, without loss and blood and slaughter. I wanted them to be happy. Free.”

Clarke sits and listens when Lexa dips her head back down, shaking it in disgust at herself. “I failed them, Clarke. I have lost thousands in the three months that have past. And some of them… they were more to me.”

Anya and Gustus, she doesn’t say, but Clarke knows. 

“Maybe if I was good, I could love and not lose. Maybe if I was good, I would be a better person… for everyone, for you.” Lexa’s words are raspy, coated in remorse and layers of grief as she looks back up pitifully. “I never asked to be Commander. I never wanted any of this, Clarke. When I left you at the Mountain, I thought I would never see you again. If it were up to my heart, I would have fought with you to the end. I would have pulled that lever for you if it meant that you walked away without the scars of death. I would have given everything for you.” And I still would, Clarke hears in the underlying message. 

“Lexa,” Clarke whispers as she finally finds her voice, “why are you here?”

Lexa looks to her feet miserably, her throat bobbing with the effort to swallow down whatever obstruction blocks its path. She takes a few moments to think.

“I…,” Lexa drifts off carefully before looking back up, “I wanted you to know.”

Clarke waits until Lexa musters up the courage to say, “I wanted you to know about me. No one… no one knows about me, Clarke. They know the Commander, but not me. I’m not allowed to be me with anyone, and I know that it’s a lot to ask, but just for tonight, I want to be selfish and just be Lexa with you. Being Commander is a tiring job and I just want one moment. _Please_.”

Tears spring in Clarke’s eyes at the pleading tone in Lexa’s voice. She knows there’s still a chasm of hurt and betrayal between them, but she can’t help but nod when she watches a few more tears drip from Lexa’s eyes. Her hands have come up so that they’re folded in her lap, almost like she’s begging for Clarke to just listen. It’s a thought that makes her head spin, that Lexa has to ask for someone to listen to her. The words from earlier, about loneliness and isolation being the only modes of comfort for a commander ring in the back of her mind. She doesn’t know how many years of memories Lexa has built up beneath her walls, that she’s been forced to push down so that she may lead with a clear head, but she judges by the hollow look in her eyes that whatever Lexa’s been through has damaged her, aged her beyond years, and stolen her innocence.

“I’m here,” Clarke tells Lexa softly, reaching out to graze her knee again. “Talk.”

And Lexa does exactly like that.

Twenty years of life and hardship, of love and happiness, are suddenly thrust into the space between them. Clarke listens, never once interrupting, as Lexa tells her life story. She pours her heart out in pieces, and with Clarke’s careful hand, Lexa starts putting them back together to form a full picture. Some of the pieces are worn and faded, some are broken and bent out of shape, and some are missing entirely, but it doesn’t stop her. The process is cathartic.

Lexa deserves that much, Clarke decides.

Clarke’s eyes mist when Lexa chokes out how she was given up by her parents at the age of three and wandered the forest alone for months until Titus and Indra had found her on the outskirts of TonDC. She holds her breath when Lexa shakily pushes through the story of her conclave, of how she had to murder seven children in order to lead her people at the tender age of just sixteen. Lexa gasps out how she didn’t want to do it, of how she’d pleaded with Titus to change the rules or do something that didn’t involve murdering her friends.

Clarke’s heart races and her skin grows warm with happiness when Lexa’s eyes light up as she retells how she’d fallen in love with the dark-skinned merchant girl from _Floukru_ named Costia. She watches carefully at the small pull of Lexa’s lips in a smile as the older woman loses herself in the memory of her late lover. In that moment, she wished that Costia were still alive, that she could see all that Lexa had accomplished. She wishes that Lexa had someone that was on her side fully, that loved her unconditionally, that held nothing against her.

Mostly, she wished that Lexa wouldn’t have to face the bitter world alone.

Tears stream down her face when Lexa tells her in that quiet, trembling voice, how she had woken up after two weeks of knowing Costia’s captivity by the Ice Nation, only to find her lover’s decapitated head at the foot of her bed, eyelids cut off and head shaved. Lexa grows quiet after that, and that’s when it hits Clarke so clearly that Lexa’s happiness is a thing of the past. It had started and ended with Costia and it was a fleeting thing, a taste of what _could’ve_ been.

Lexa speaks of Anya next, of the mother and sister and friend that the warrior had been. She fondly recounts their training from when she’d been a scrawny little child, barely able to hold a sword and stay on her feet. Clarke tries not to dampen the mood when she imagines a child, too skinny and malnourished to even walk, wielding a sword twice the size of her body and training when she should be playing and being a kid. The thought makes her heart seize up in her chest, but Lexa gives her a sad, but understanding look, but it makes it worse.

“You were a kid,” Clarke tells her when Lexa finishes the story of how she was forced to torture a thief at the age of fourteen as a result of the previous Commander’s teachings. She’d gone back to his village after the punishment with bread and water, and despite the snarls and angered looks she’d received, the family and the man had accepted the offering without any gratitude.

“I was soon to be Commander,” Lexa says with a small shrug, “it was expected of me to carry out a punishment. I just… I didn’t think it to be fit, was all. The man was hungry. The fact that he should have to steal is a crime itself, really.”

“Stock house,” Clarke muses quietly. Lexa’s head cocks and Clarke swallows.

“The eighteen that Finn killed,” Clarke says as she takes a breath. “Their villages had stock houses. Was it communal?” Lexa nods and smiles slightly.

“As soon as I became Heda I drafted the law that required everyone to share their goods, so long as each person has a job or task that allows them to take from the contribution. That’s how healers, gatherers, blacksmiths, and scouts started coming up. By creating more jobs, less people went hungry. It also gave them a sense of purpose and fulfillment. Not everyone is built with hands of a warrior. Neither are they capable of being healers. We all have our own strengths, as we have our weaknesses.” Clarke smiles at the eloquently poetic answer, not even bothering to mask the pride that curls her lips upwards.

“Kane was right,” Clarke sighs contently as she nods, “you are a visionary.”

Lexa blushes at that, a tiny laugh leaving her lips. “Kane exaggerates.”

“You said you aren’t good, but look at yourself. You told me that your training used to be solely based on physical strength. When you teach your children, you give them more than the ability to fight. You teach them to think, to use their minds, their words, their actions. You teach them to chose peace over war. You teach them to value team work and family over individual greed. You have made mistakes, Lexa, that’s true. But your intentions have always been good.” Lexa listens, teary-eyed as Clarke inches closer and places a hand on the side of her face, her thumb rubbing over the gaunt, hard bone of her cheek.

“You are good,” Clarke whispers shakily, nodding, “no matter what anyone says. You are so good, Lexa. Your legacy will always be peace, Heda.”

Lexa goes to open her mouth to reply when there’s a knock on the door. Instantly, the brunette’s head snaps upwards and both fear and sadness fill those green eyes. Clarke panics and watches as the knob turns and a solemn-looking Titus walks into the room, eyes glassy with pent-up emotion. If Clarke didn’t know any better, she would have thought he looked almost guilty.

“Heda,” Titus nearly chokes on her title, “it is time.”

Clarke’s head turns to face Lexa, and when she sees that the Commander’s gaze is distant and mournful, her heart lurches with trepidation.

“Time for what?” Clarke demands as she rises, looking back at Titus. “What’s going on?” Lexa doesn’t reply as she stands and nods at Titus softly.

“The guards have prepared a horse for you,” Titus explains in a quiet voice. “You will be returned, alongside Pike and your mother, to Arkadia.”

“What?” Clarke asks, aghast. “Why?!”

“ _Skaïkru_ has been inducted back into the coalition,” Lexa says before Titus can open his mouth. She tries to offer Clarke a smile, but it falters and breaks. “Like I said, your people are safe. You have nothing to fear for them, Clarke. You have brought them the peace and tranquility you wanted since you touched the ground. There is nothing for you to do here, as Kane will take your position as ambassador and Chancellor of the Sky People. It’s your turn to be free, Clarke.”

“Lexa,” Clarke chokes out, “what are you talking about?”

Lexa takes her hands so gently, so painfully softly, as though the older woman would break them should she hold them any tighter. Dipping her head, Lexa only barely rasps out, “making sure that the peace holds. No one else must die between our people. Now, it’s time for unity. Now, it’s time for change.”

“And you?” Clarke asks fearfully. “What’s happening to you?”

“Heda,” Titus interrupts shakily. “It’s nearly dawn.”

Clarke looks over behind Lexa’s shoulder to the faint pink light spilling through the curtains, wondering how they’d spent the entire night talking. But the thought doesn’t matter, she decides, for her heart is pacing too quickly to appreciate the beautiful sight of a crisp winter sunrise. Lexa’s thumbs glide over her knuckle and Clarke watches her eyes drift to her lips and then back up to her eyes sadly. Tears mist in those green pools as Lexa takes a deep breath.

“What is required,” she answers cryptically, “to protect our people.”

 _To protect you,_ Clarke hears in a strained voice. 

“You must go,” Lexa whispers as she blinks back her tears. “Your people must be made aware of the changes. Your mother will explain on the way.”

“Lexa…,” Clarke gasps as she feels Lexa’s hands leave her own. “Lexa, wait–”

“ _Ste yuj,_ ” Lexa tells her in as steady of a voice that she can manage. Clarke sniffles and shakes her head, when Lexa’s arm extends in a Grounder farewell.

“May we meet again,” Lexa whispers as a tear slides down her cheek. Clarke just looks at the hand and then back up to Lexa. Before either of them can react, Clarke is barrelling forward, wrapping Lexa in her arms as tight as she can. The older woman gasps against her shoulder, but in a quick second, Lexa is boneless in her embrace. Clarke holds her tightly, tears burning in her eyes.

“You will always be Lexa to me,” Clarke whispers as she rubs over the tight, corded muscles of the other woman’s back. “Everyone may see the tough shell of the Commander, but I will always see Lexa. And if you ever need to be reminded of that, you know where to find me. I will be waiting, Lexa. Always.”

“Do… do you forgive me?” Lexa chokes against her clothes, her voice small and timid, like a child’s own. Clarke nods and grips her tighter, closing her eyes.

“Yes,” Clarke replies with a harsh swallow. “Yes, I do.”

“Heda,” Titus’ clipped voice sounds again. “We cannot waste anymore time.”

“You are strong, Clarke. Your heart is pure and your mind is clear,” Lexa says shakily as they pull away from the embrace. “You mustn’t forget the good you’ve done, either. You have saved your people, as well as me. To that, I owe you my life. Now is your time to retire, to reap the rewards of your long-fought peace. Plant flowers and sketch the world. Be happy, be safe, be true.”

Clarke can’t help it. Not when Titus is trying to pull her away and Lexa’s so desperately avoiding the words she wants to say, the words Clarke knows would destroy her if they weren’t reciprocated. She doesn’t know what’s happening, why Titus or Lexa look so solemn, but something about this entire situation screams a final goodbye. And God forbid Clarke walks away again.

In one swift movement, Clarke hooks her hand around the back of Lexa’s neck, her fingers curling in the soft baby curls that were too short for her braids. She draws her in for a kiss, one that leaves Lexa shuddering against her in a sobbing mess. Their lips taste of bitter salt and anguish. But somewhere under the sadness and grief, there is an inexplicable and incredible beauty. Somewhere, buried under the betrayal and the past, there is a fresh start.

There is… hope.

“I love you,” Clarke whispers the words to Lexa. “I love you, Lexa.”

“ _Clarke_ ,” Lexa all but croaks her name feebly. “Clarke, please do not lie.”

“I’m not lying,” Clarke assures her steadily, “I mean it. I love you.”

“Heda,” Titus urges again, his voice cracking. “ _Now_.”

Lexa takes a deep breath, resting her forehead against Clarke’s own.

“I love you, too. Never forget that. You are my soul, Clarke. My everything.”

Before Clarke can respond, she’s being whisked away by Titus. She doesn’t realize she’s screaming for Lexa until Titus tells her to quiet down. She’s sobbing as she watches Lexa remain standing in the room as she’s dragged away, her eyes distant and solemn and trained on her until they get to the elevator. By this time, Clarke has stopped screaming and has become numb.

“Thank you,” Titus says after awhile of riding in silence. Clarke glances up, confused at the gratitude. Noticing the befuddlement, Titus clears his throat.

“Thank you for giving her a chance to talk,” he tells her quietly, “for listening.”

“What’s happening?” Clarke asks, not bothering to respond to the thank-you. Titus’ eyes harden and his throat bobs in a rough swallow as he stares forward.

“You are leaving.”

“Not me,” Clarke says in a clipped voice. “What’s happening to Lexa?”

“She is finishing the agenda,” Titus answers cryptically. “Lexa is doing what is required of her to ensure peace between all the clans. She knew the costs of this alliance.” Suddenly, Clarke remembers the words Gustus had murmured to Lexa when they’d first met and travelled to TonDC for the ritualistic burning.

_This alliance will become the death of you, Heda._

“Titus,” she chokes on his name, her eyes blurring with tears. “Tell me. Now.”

Titus hardens again, though Clarke doesn’t miss the sheen in his eyes. “You have already figured it out, Wanheda. What else is there to tell?” Clarke growls.

“Say it,” she demands in a low voice, “I need to hear it. I won’t believe it otherwise.” Titus takes a breath a blinks, unable to stop the rolling tear down his cheek. Clarke can see his hands shaking at his sides, and her heart tightens.

Then, he turns to her, eyes solemn and deep with grief.

“She is being executed.”

The words hit Clarke like a freight-train. She chokes on a sob as Titus hangs his head and looks away, unable to contain his own tears as the elevator comes to a halt and the doors open to reveal a glassy-eyed Abby standing by Octavia and Indra. Kane waits in the back, his gaze lowered to the ground in quiet grief.

“No,” Clarke refuses as she rubs at her eyes, “no, take me back up, take me to her. I’m not going anywhere. Lexa’s not at fault for this, Pike is. It should be him being killed!” She’s near manic now, but this time it’s Abby that reaches for her.

“Clarke,” Abby whispers her name softly, “sweetheart, we have to go.”

“No,” Clarke snarls through her tears at her mother, “no, I’m not leaving her.”

“Staying would only ensue another war,” Indra growls, but despite the anger in her voice, Clarke can hear the mourning that laces each word. “Her death will be quick, a sword to the heart. If you interfere, it will be worse. Do not dishonour her sacrifice, girl.” Clarke shakes her head and pleads at the guards in the elevator to let her back up, but they remain standing still and silent.

Clarke doesn’t miss the tear tracks down their cheeks, however.

“Aden is the next Commander,” Titus tells her softly, “Lexa changed the rules of the conclave hours before coming to say farewell. You do not have to worry about your people. He will carry on her legacy of peace and unity.”

“I don’t want Aden,” Clarke spits at him. “I want her. I want _Lexa_.”

“Clarke,” Abby protests again, “honey, please–”

“I love her,” Clarke chokes out as she falls to her knees on the ground. “I love her, Mom. I love her so much and now, just as I get to forgive her, she’s going?”

“Oh sweetheart,” Abby gasps as she takes her daughter into her arms and holds her tight to her chest. “I’m sorry. I know you want to be with her, but you can’t. You know that your presence will only make thing harder for both of you.”

“I can’t let her die, Mom.” Clarke is sobbing the words now, her breaths turning into uneven hiccups, bordering on hyperventilating. “I can’t let her be alone when she’s been alone all of her life. She shouldn’t have to be alone. No one knows who she is except for me. No one knows that she loves children, or likes to plant flowers. No one knows that she loves tenderly and carefully and is so loyal and gentle. No one has seen her smile like I have, or heard her laugh.”

“Clarke,” Abby whispers as she rubs her back, “please–”

“And she’s beautiful, Mom. She doesn’t believe it, but she is so beautiful. She thinks herself as this monster, all because that’s what she’s always been told. She’s never felt safe enough to love because each time she does, she has to let it go in the worst of ways. We’re the reason why Anya and Gustus are dead. Those were the only two people, aside from Costia, that ever knew Lexa.”

“Clarke–”

“I can’t let her die!” Clarke pleads with her mother selfishly. “I _won’t_ let her die.”

“Lexa wouldn’t want you to act this way.”

“Don’t you dare,” Clarke snarls as she shoves Abby away from her. “You know _nothing_ about her.” Abby’s eyes grow hard with sympathy, but she remains firm.

“Then what would she want you to do, Clarke?”

The question is like a bullet to the heart, because that’s when Clarke _knows_. She feels it in her gut because she knows Lexa. She knows that Lexa would want her to carry the torch, to not let their vision of peace die out so soon. Lexa wouldn’t want her to fight against her sacrifice, but to honour it instead. 

Lexa always wanted for Clarke what she could never have for herself.

To be safe, happy, loved, and most of all, at peace.

“You must leave now, before the sun rises fully.” Titus’ voice cuts in with a soft rasp. Clarke looks up at him emptily, but her body works for her, moving on its own accord as she rises to her feet and stumbles over towards the back entrance where the horses are kept. Her mind is numb, but she isn’t confused.

“Wait,” Clarke interjects in a sniffle, “can I just stay? Just to see her?”

“Honey,” Abby says worriedly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I know a place,” Titus interrupts before Clarke can take a jab at her mother. Clarke looks over at him, surprised to see a vast amount of appreciation in his gaze. She nods as he beckons for her to follow. He takes them through the brush of the trees before they come to a clearing overlooking the city’s centre.

Instantly, she spies the stump with Heda’s symbol carved into the wood.

It’s almost as though the entire city has turned up, their voices blending together as they chant out something akin to a prayer. Each citizen holds a torch, but instead of a yellow flame, a red one is present in each flaming stick. Clarke feels Titus leave her side, mumbling out about how he must prepare for the ritual, and that she’s welcome to stay as long as she pleases, so long as she has left by the time the guards go back to their usual shift rotation. 

Ignoring Abby’s incessant pleas to move away, Clarke stays planted, watching from high ground as drums start to beat and the chanting grows louder and deeper, resonating through the crowd as the sun spills over the mountainside.

And then, with one silent hum, the doors from the tower open to reveal Lexa.

The Commander mask is back on her face as she is brought out to the stump. Her eyes are set and hardened, showing know fear as Titus mumbles something to her. As soon as the words have finished leaving his mouth, Lexa’s gaze falters slightly and she looks up, her eyes directly meeting Clarke’s own.

And that’s when Clarke breaks.

She cups a hand over her mouth to stifle the sob, and her own cries are enough to trigger Lexa. The Commander’s lip trembles and she tries to shake her head, to tell Clarke to go, but the blonde can see the gratitude in Lexa’s eyes that Clarke is here, providing her with support as she is to pay the price of her decisions. Allowing the gentle rubbing of her back from her mother, Clarke continues to watch with blurred vision as Lexa’s hands are pried from the cuffs.

And then, something solemnly beautiful happens.

As Lexa is tied to the stump, each citizen of Polis takes a knee until they have all knelt before her, heads bowed in respect. Even Titus removes himself from her side so he may kneel on wobbly legs, his bowed head masking his tears as they drip uncontrollably from where he stands. Lexa’s eyes are glassy with awe, and as her people’s heads nod back up, they stay kneeling until Aden is called. 

The boy has never looked more like Lexa than he does now, Clarke realizes.

Aden is donned in Lexa’s armour, the pauldron attached to his shoulder two sizes too big for his body. To his credit, however, he looks brave and ready. Lexa smiles at him, and even from the distance, Clarke can see the affection and pride brewing in those green eyes. Aden looks shaky, but Lexa murmurs something inaudible to the boy and he straightens with a sharp nod. 

The drumming picks up, and Clarke knows what’s about to happen next.

The citizens of Polis begin to chant again, each of them watching with as much rapt attention as Clarke when Aden pulls the ceremonial sword – the same one Lexa had used to kill Gustus, Clarke notices – and draws it to arms. Tears well up in Clarke’s eyes again when Lexa’s gaze drifts upwards and finds her own.

“I love you,” Clarke breathes out, even though she knows Lexa can’t hear her. The brunette gives her the barest of nods before taking a breath and turning her attention back to Aden. She whispers something to her protégé before smiling sadly. Aden nods firmly, swallowing down his nerves as he tilts his head up.

Lexa keeps her eyes open and trained on the boy as the sword pierces through her thin tunic and slices into her heart. Even when Aden falters and whimpers, his hands shaking around the handle of his blade, Lexa uses the last of her strength to whisper a few words of pride, of encouragement, and of motivation. Black pools down her chest and some of it burbles from her mouth, and it’s taking everything in Clarke to not run to her and swoop her into her arms for that last moment, to hold her and love her and cherish her one final time.

Instead, Lexa’s eyes hazily drift upwards and she smiles, as earnestly and pure as she’s ever smiled in her life, and that’s when Clarke’s worries suddenly die.

For the first time in her life, Lexa is at peace.

“ _Yu gonplei ste odon_ ,” Clarke whispers, knowing that Lexa is waiting, using her last breaths so she may finally hear the words she never thought she deserved. Lexa’s smile grows an inch wider and she barely manages a nod before the last breath leaves her lungs and she grows limp against the stump, her body still.

 _Leksa kom Trikru_ , _Heda kom Ogozaun_ , the founder of the coalition, is dead.

“ _Reshwe Leksa_ ,” Clarke murmurs the final prayer as she dips her head and closes her eyes, letting the last few tears streak down her face. “ _Ai hod yu in._ ”

Clarke takes a moment then, to close her eyes and send a final prayer to wherever Lexa’s spirit may be, to grant it safe passage wherever it may go. She pulls together those last few smiles and laughs that Lexa had shared with her. She immortalizes those memories that Lexa had told no one but her, and she makes sure that each detail is as accurate as possible. She keeps them locked inside her chest, in the deepest corners of her heart, and she will always guard them until she draws her own last breath and is reunited with her love again.

“Let’s go,” Clarke whispers as she looks up to her mother’s mournful gaze. “We have an alliance to keep.” Abby opens her mouth to ask Clarke a question, but the blonde only shakes her head as she walks back to the horses, without even so much as a glance over her shoulder. She keeps her head up, her eyes open, and her back straight as she makes her way to her horse – Lexa’s horse, if she remembers anything of the last three months – and mounts it carefully.

“Clarke?” Abby asks, gulping. Clarke shakes her head, looking ahead.

“The dead are gone,” Clarke says as she looks to Abby. “The living are hungry.”

The words, the ones that at one point had hurt to hear, now provide her with a new understanding and comfort. The wind bristles through the trees and whistles against the leaves. Clarke looks up to see a little girl with chestnut hair and forest green eyes staring back at her with a smile wider than the curvature of the Earth itself. She waves and giggles, her white dress flowing in the breeze as she turns and runs through the underbrush without a care in the world.

Despite having witnessed the death of her love, Clarke finds herself smiling.

“Death is not the end,” she murmurs to herself as she spurs her horse and follows in the little girl’s direction, ignoring the calls of her mother from behind her. She rides for a few moments until she comes upon a small house in the middle of the forest, abandoned and withered from age. 

Clarke dismounts and approaches the house cautiously. She knocks twice and when she finds no answer, she opens the door. It creaks as it gives way, and the mid-morning sun floods the interior with light. Not bothered about the status of her mother and whether or not she’d followed her to the small house, Clarke takes a step inside and looks around. There’s a bookshelf, filled to the brim with different kinds of readings, from books and scrolls to texts and scriptures. Blank canvases litter the sides and in the corner, there is an easel with unopened bottles of what looks to be paint. Frowning, Clarke ventures further inside until she finds a table with a note on it. Carefully, she takes it into her hands and blows the film of dust off the paper covering before turning it over to read.

 _Kom chilnes yu na ban sishou-de au,_  
_Kom hodnes yu na hon neson op._  
_Gouthru klir hashta yu soujon,  
__Kom taim oso _fali__ _kom daun gon graun-de._

“The Traveller’s Blessing?” Clarke ponders she fingers over the writing. “But… how?” As far as she knew, only the Sky People knew of the prayer. 

And then, as Clarke looks up from the note, she looks into the face of a woman.

“Hello, Clarke,” the woman says, her eyes kind and gentle. “We meet at last.”

“Who are you?” Clarke asks, gulping slightly. The woman only smiles.

“Becca Kom Heda,” the woman answers. Clarke frowns, eyes widening.

“But that’s the name of…”

“Yes,” Becca says with nod, her gaze patient. “I am the first Commander.”

“But you’re dead,” Clarke whispers as she puts the note down. “You can’t…”

“When the Commander dies, my spirit chooses a new vessel.”

“I thought that was just myth.”

“Once the Ark thought a habitable Earth was a myth.”

“What’s your point?” Clarke asks, unsure if she’s delusional at this point.

Becca smiles again. “Not all myths are legends. Some can become real.”

“So what does that have to do with me?” Clarke asks, still confused. “I can’t be the new commander, I don’t have black blood.” This time, even Becca looks perplexed. She steps closer, her boots making not even a single sound against the old wooden floors. Clarke remains frozen and wary, but not scared.

“My spirit has passed to Aden. His conclave was a success in the transfer, but part of it has lingered behind in search of another vessel. You have been chosen for something different,” Becca says, “but I do not think it is me acting this way. I would claim it to be a malfunction, but something tells me otherwise.”

“Lexa…,” Clarke trails off with a lilt to her voice, “she couldn’t…”

“Hello, Clarke.”

Clarke whips her head around to see Lexa standing next to the little girl with brown hair and green eyes, the one she’d seen earlier and had followed into the forest. Without thinking, Clarke bounds forwards and wraps her arms around Lexa’s shoulders, unsure of how she’s managing to feel Lexa under the skin of her palms, but she somehow is. Her eyes stay open, trained on Lexa’s face as she pulls away to gaze upon her worriedly. If this is a delusion, she wants to stay as long as possible if it means feeling her late lover for a moment longer. 

“How?” Clarke gasps out. Lexa gives her that familiar smirk.

“I told you my spirit would choose wisely, did I not?” Lexa replies. “And my spirit has chosen yours in every lifetime, from start to finish.” Clarke looks past Lexa’s shoulder to see a thousand different people, men and women both, and for some strange reason, they all leave a familiar pull in her heart. When Clarke turns around to ask Becca a question, she finds the house gone and the forest replaced by a wheat field. She turns again to Lexa, who smiles at her earnestly.

“Soul mates,” Clarke breathes out, “that’s why I can see you.”

“Your spirit remains tethered to this Earth,” Lexa explains as she takes Clarke’s palm in her hand and raises it to her lips so she may bestow the softest of kisses. “Mine is in this in-between realm, waiting until you join me for the next incarnation. I will linger here until we are reunited, so we may both begin again.”

“Do I get to stay here?” Clarke asks as she inches closer to Lexa. A solemn look passes through Lexa’s youthful gaze, darkening it only slightly. 

“Not yet, my love. You still have a journey to complete. Once it is over, your spirit will be free to join mine,” Lexa tells her gently, kissing her forehead this time. “But I will always be there, right beside you. I am yours, Clarke. Forever.”

“You are mine,” Clarke breathes out as Lexa’s lips find hers in a soft kiss. “I love you, Lexa. I’m… I’m so sorry it took so long to figure out before. I was too late.”

“You came when I needed you the most,” Lexa whispers instead, “and that is more than enough, my sweetheart. My soul is at peace. I am at peace.”

“I won’t get to see you after this, will I?” Clarke asks, knowing her question is rhetorical. Lexa shakes her head and answers with a soft, slow, seemingly mournful kiss. Clarke returns it fervently, drawing Lexa as close as possible.

“Then I don’t want to waste another minute before we have to part,” Clarke breathes against Lexa’s lips, “I don’t want to go another second without you.”

“I will always be with you,” Lexa hums mid-kiss as Clarke’s hands go to unfasten her tunic, “you are not alone, Clarke. I reside within you, around you, and beside you. You may never see me again, but I am always there. I promise.”

“Then show me,” Clarke whispers as she holds Lexa close, “please.”

“Always,” Lexa murmurs back as she reattaches their lips. “I love you.”

–

When Clarke wakes up, she’s in the medical bay of Arkadia.

Her mother, who’d been waiting for a total of three days for her to wake up, quickly informs her that she’d passed out after seeing Lexa’s body grow still. She’d not exhibited any bizarre symptoms, but she’d not woken up. It was almost as though she’d drifted into a coma-like state for three days.

Clarke doesn’t tell her about Becca or Lexa or the little girl. Instead, she shrugs and tells her that it must’ve been the grief and exhaustion. She tears up when she remembers that Lexa’s physical form is no longer here, that she won’t get to see her lover stripped down and as every bit as youthful as she was underneath the Commander’s gear. But she knows, she feels Lexa around her.

And even though Lexa herself is dead, her spirit is strong and comforting, like a gentle hum in the base of her heart. It gives her a sense of blissful peace.

When Titus comes to Arkadia a week later with Lexa’s ashes, she takes them to the forest and finds the place where they’d camped out after having escaped _pauna_ and she spreads them, her eyes misting with the memories of falling in love with the protector of the Earth. She finishes the scattering with a recitation of the Traveller’s Blessing that she’d found in Trigedasleng, and when she’s finished, the warm breeze gently answers back in a peaceful response. 

The following month, when the uproar of Pike’s resignation has died down, Clarke travels to Polis and meets with Aden. They both go over treaties and regulations, and surprisingly, Titus allows her to help him in the first few months of his leadership. In that time, they manage to open up an orphanage in Lexa’s name, change the conclave from a spiritual transfer of an AI to a democratic system in which anyone is entitled to the title of Heda. They create a monument in the middle of Polis’ square in honour of the Commander of Peace.

Sometimes at night, Clarke feels Lexa’s spirit beside her. More times than not, Clarke talks to her. Lexa answers back in a fluttering breeze or even as a warm feeling in the base of her heart. It leaves her content, full, and at peace.

Many years later, after losing her fight to illness, Clarke’s spirit returns to Lexa.

And together, they begin again in search of their new incarnation.


	2. Stoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven feeds the Commander a pot brownie and Clarke has to deal with the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of Marijuana 
> 
> idk what the hell this is, tbh.

"Lexa…"

There's a haze in the air. All the colours around her are melding together into this weird… mush. She's staring at this mysterious blonde angel with eyes as clear as the sky. She lifts up her hand, aching to reach out and touch the mirage in front of her.

"Lexa, what has gotten into you?"

"You know my name," Lexa babbles as she blinks up at the woman with wide eyes, "a Goddess knows my name."

"Yes," the Goddess says, cocking her head in confusion. "We are bonded, Lexa. Seriously, what has gotten into you?"

Lexa looks to her hand, gasping as she watches her palm swirl until galaxies appear on the insides of her skin. She leans back, only to tumble off whatever she had been sitting on and collapse on the floor. Instead of groaning in pain, she bursts into a round of giggles, lolling about like a _goufa_. She can't stop laughing, even when tears well in her eyes and her stomach contorts.

"Oh my God," the Goddess says as she picks up a piece of the magical cake that _tek_ girl had made, "did you eat this, Lexa?"

Lexa only pouts and looks up to Clarke with a trembling bottom lip. "Maybe… it was very sweet. Like honey, but not really."

The Goddess arches her brow and it takes everything for Lexa to not burst out crying at the sight. She has made her Goddess upset. She shouldn't have eaten the chocolate cake piece. She slumps against the ground again, babbling nonsensically at the ceiling. The Goddess rolls her eyes and scoffs, but there's a sliver of lightheartedness in her gaze as she kneels before her.

"Alright," her Goddess says gently, "let's get you up."

Honestly? Lexa will go anywhere at the sound of that voice.

-

Clarke has seen Lexa in a lot of ways.

Ferocious and made of steel when cutting down warriors in battle. Vulnerable and shy when making love in the early hours of the morning. Stern and commanding to a board of ambassadors. Nurturing and maternal to her nightblood children during lessons.

But this? Clarke has never seen this.

Lexa continues to flop about as Clarke hoists her up and brings her over to the bed. She's mumbling about something, but it's hard to tell considering she's blending the sentences in a jumbled version of both Trigedasleng and English. Clarke doesn't realize how heavy her bond is until she is forced to take Lexa's entire weight when the girl simply decides to become the human equivalent of jello. Clarke grunts and nearly collapses with her, but refuses to sink to the floor. Instead, she shoots Lexa a glare.

"Remind me to never let Raven roam the tower unsupervised," Clarke mutters to herself. "Of course she would pull this shit."

"No Clarke," Lexa drawls, reaching up to pat Clarke's head, but missing greatly and only hitting air. "No shitting."

Clarke only rolls her eyes, but then Lexa's attention is diverted to the floors. Her eyes well with tears, and Clarke holds back a giggle. The older girl starts to palm at the wood and gasps, drawing her hand back up to her face before looking at Clarke sadly.

"The floor is made of wood!" Lexa exclaims with a pout. "Wood comes from trees. I am from _Trikru_ , where there are trees. If I come from Trikru where there are trees then I must also be wood, right Goddess?"

And then, a pause before Lexa's eyes grow wide with awe. "We are _all_ wood."

"For the love of God, how many did you eat?" Clarke asks as Lexa continues to stare at the floor with wide, expectant eyes. Deciding the other woman is in no position to answer her question, she half-throws, half-tosses Lexa to the bed with a grunt. Lexa lolls about on the furs, grinning at the softness before curling into a tiny ball. Clarke wants to be mad, but she can't help but find this entire situation adorable. She reaches down to try and tug at the furs, but Lexa snatches them back up, staring at her with bloodshot eyes. She can see from the massive saucers of her pupils that Lexa is stoned off her face.

"Lexa, you have a meeting with your ambassadors in ten minutes."

"I don't want to go," Lexa pouts, shoving her head under the covers. "Tell them to come back tomorrow."

Clarke rolls her eyes. "Lexa, you are signing a treaty today with Broadleaf Clan. Come on, we need to sober you up."

She attempts to get back the sheets, but her damned bond is far too strong and somehow manages to tug Clarke onto the bed. She collapses next to Lexa with another grunt, and before she can get up, two long and slender arms wrap around her. Clarke tries to wiggle free, but can't help but smile as Lexa's face nuzzles into the back of her shoulder blades.

But then, Lexa purrs.

The sound is so bizarre, Clarke spins around so quickly that she accidentally elbows Lexa in the face. She goes to apologize as she turns around, but when she does, she sees Lexa staring at the blood on her fingers with awe. 

"Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry. Are you okay?" Clarke asks, but Lexa is still staring at her blood. "Lex?"

"I have ink in my nose," Lexa says as she holds up her fingers and shoves them in Clarke's face. "Look, Goddess."

"Goddess?" Clarke asks as she shoves Lexa's bloody hand away. "What are you talking about?"

"You are the angel from the sky with eyes as blue as the sea," Lexa says in a nonchalant tone. "Therefore you are a Goddess."

Clarke can't help but blush as she listens to Lexa ramble about how beautiful she is and how she must be sent from the Heavens, but before she can continue, there's a knock on the door. Clarke's eyes widen with fear, but Lexa just lazily glances over.

"Goddess, I believe your chariot has arrived. See to it."

Clarke stares at Lexa for a minute before shaking her head and bounding towards the door. She opens it just a crack and gulps when she sees an ire-faced Titus standing before her, his arms crossed and a glare in his dark eyes. 

" _Wanheda_."

"Titus, hey!" Clarke replies back nervously. "Uh, what's up?"

"Where is Lexa," he asks, about to enter the room. "The ambassadors are waiting."

"She's um…," Clarke stumbles, "well, you see--"

"Why are you talking to the door," Lexa's loud and drawling voice sounds from beside her. "Does it lead to your palace?"

Clarke doesn't want to look back at Titus. She wants to disappear, actually. 

But the moment is short lived.

" _Aleksandra kom Trikru_ ," Titus says in a low scowl as he pushes past Clarke and stares at a dopily-grinning Lexa. His brows shoot to his cowl, an expression of complete disbelief and misunderstanding laden on his face. He looks between the two of them.

"Your head is all funny," Lexa says with a snort, flopping her hand out to point at his tattoos, "so swirly."

Ignoring her, Titus turns on his heel and stares down at Clarke. "What have you done to her, _Wanheda_?"

"It wasn't--"

"No!" Lexa suddenly says as she stumbles forward. "Bald man, you will not talk to the Goddess. She is a Goddess!"

"Bald man," Titus splutters, " _Heda_ this is unbecoming of you--"

"What's _unbecoming_ ," Lexa slurs the word, "is that I don't have any strawberry tarts. I want strawberry tarts. Fetch them, bald man. I am hungry and my stomach desires food." Clarke is holding back the urge to laugh, and she's sure she must be bright red. Titus continues to splutter in disbelief as Lexa leaves them at the door to go flop face-first onto her bed, groaning like a banshee.

"Postpone the meeting for a few hours," Clarke offers in a sheepish tone, "it'll wear off. She accidentally ate a pot brownie."

"A what?" Titus asks, his jaw hanging open even more. "Is it poison? We do not put pots in… whatever a _brownie_ is."

"Just… go delay the ambassadors. And call for the strawberry tarts, she's gonna need them." Titus growls something under his breath at Clarke's command before stalking off, muttering under his breath about useless _Skaïkru_ and their damned inventions. Clarke huffs and closes the door, turning around to talk to Lexa, when she sees the other girl staring at her like she's her entire world. It's no different than how Lexa usually looks at her, but it's not reserved or hidden behind tight-lipped smiles and walls.

No, this is Lexa in her purest, unbridled, form.

"Goddess," Lexa beams as she makes room on the bed and pats the furs eagerly, "come, come!"

Clarke joins Lexa and tugs the slighter woman into her arms. Lexa nuzzles into her eagerly, her eyes closing and the gentle purring noise leaving her throat again. Clarke rolls her eyes at how needy and cuddly is, and makes a mental note to tease Lexa about it once she's sober. The thought makes her insides squirm and butterflies float around her stomach as Lexa tucks herself into her side, her knees drawn up to her chest as she starts to doze lightly. Clarke chuckles, stroking her hair as Lexa passes out.

Even though she knows that she has to reprimand Raven, she can't help but feel slightly thankful.


	3. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke learns a lesson when it comes to trusting in Lexa's promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF BLOOD/GORE AND SERIOUS INJURIES.
> 
> nice this is actually not that bad but it could also be literal shit so here you go!!!! it's a little rough in the beginning with gory injuries and such but the end is super cute i guess?? idek man i found this in a random folder when i was trying to find a paper template so idk if it was abandoned once or just one of my random drunk writings. whatever it is, here it is. i am going to scream about chicago style of citation now!!
> 
> again i am dead inside so feel free to die with me during this finals week!!

"It's a simple hunting trip," Clarke promises a reluctant Lexa, "we need the meat and could use some fresh air."

Lexa looks skeptical, her vision scoping the forest and assessing the temperature. "A storm is coming, Clarke. We should pass."

"Please," Clarke pleads as she tests the weight of her spear in her hand, "we've been stuck in meetings all day. Don't you remember how much fun hunting used to be? You used to be so much more adventurous and daring. Now we're boring."

At this, Lexa's brow arches playfully. "Is that so, _niron_? You think I am boring?"

Clarke grins, knowing exactly how to push Lexa's buttons. "I think that you're getting old, Heda. I bet I can catch more prey than you." Lexa growls lowly, but her eyes show nothing but teasing excitement that sends shudders up and down Clarke's spine.

"Fine," Lexa says in a sultry tone, retrieving her bow and arrow, as well as her sword. "I accept your challenge, Wanheda."

===

It's a simple hunting trip. They both catch a few hares and a squirrel a piece, but Clarke's ambitions grow from the smaller fauna to the more taxing animals. Lexa warns her that it is getting late and they should head back, but Clarke feels adventurous. She flashes Lexa a toothy grin, one that she knows her wife would never be able to resist, and just like that, Lexa reluctantly agrees.

The thing is, it _was_ a simple hunting trip.

Until suddenly, it wasn't.

Clarke was walking alongside Lexa in one minute, and then next she was being flung across the forest floor. She lays there now, staring up at the sky and wondering how the sky is so… blue. Her body feels numb, and there are sounds of shouting and screaming coming from around her, followed by thuds and rumbles of the ground shaking beneath her. Clarke gasps as everything starts to come back into motion, and a fiery lance of pain crawls down her spine. She tilts her head to see Lexa screaming at her from across the clearing, green eyes wide with fear and adrenalin as her hand grips her sword.

And that's when Clarke sees it.

A massive, lumbering black bear with ragged fur and a foaming mouth, its eyes are deliriously red, and its teeth sharp and stained with blood, staring back at her with a ravaging hunger laden clearly in its gaze. Clarke's heart kicks up into her throat and she suddenly can't breathe. Her stare is fixated on the sight of this terrifying beast stalking towards her, growling with menace.

"Clarke!" Lexa screams as Clarke watches her charge forward. "Clarke, run!"

The bear whips its head around as Lexa launches herself at its body, her sword slicing through a thick patch of black fur. The animal howls and diverts attention from the dazed blonde, now more occupied at the commander trying to gut it dry. Clarke watches, tears in her eyes, as one of its massive paws swipes at Lexa's front, sending her sprawling out a few feet away. 

Lexa's sharp scream of pain is what brings her back to her senses.

Rising to her feet, Clarke hastily grabs at her spear that had been knocked out of her grasp when the bear attacked her. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her aim as she watches the bear loom over Lexa, raised up on its hind-legs as it roars in anger. Lexa rolls out of the way as it comes down with its extended paws, barely missing being trampled by the beast. Clarke lifts the spear and steadies her aim, using all of the knowledge Lexa had taught her about throwing javelins to make her shot.

She does it when the bear is least expecting it, the harsh edge of the metal blade wedging into its left haunch. The bear yowls and writhes, turning its head frantically to try and wrench the wooden spear free. Lexa takes its misery to her advantage and scrambles over to Clarke. The younger woman's vision is blurry and the sound around her head is foggy, but she makes out Lexa.

"Clarke," Lexa gasps as she approaches. Clarke can see black blood mixed in with a dark crimson splattered on her coat. Lexa's face is coated in the latter, making her look like a wildling. She grabs at Clarke's arm, dragging her away from the bear.

"Clarke," Lexa chokes out as she turns her head over her shoulder to see the bear staring in their direction, "we need to run."

"Lexa," Clarke splutters over her name. Her legs feel like jello and she can't move. That's when she looks down and she sees it.

Her right leg is broken.

" _Jok_!" Lexa swears as she follows Clarke's gaze, before glancing over at the snarling bear. "Okay… okay, we need a new plan…"

Clarke isn't really listening anymore because the bear is growling again, kicking out its back paws in the preparation of a charge. She grips Lexa tightly and lets out a cracked yelp of distress. Lexa immediately follows her gaze, eyes widening as she looks between the both of them, and then, with a glance of resignation, over Clarke's shoulder with a wince. Lexa gulps nervously.

"I'm sorry, Clarke." Lexa whispers the words so quietly, Clarke barely hears them over the thudding of the charging bear.

The next thing she sees is that beautiful sky as the air is sucked from her lungs when Lexa shoves her forward. The last things she hears is Lexa's agonizing scream and the ferocious roar of the bear as it approaches them. There's pain, so much pain.

And so she falls, down, down, down.

Then, there's nothing but darkness.

===

Clarke wakes with a gasp to blood in her mouth and a weight atop her. She struggles under heavy barrier while coughing out the blood. She rolls and wriggles until she manages to shift underneath the cold weight. As she wrenches free, she feels the scratchy texture of fur brushing against the cut in her cheek. Her eyes flit open in fear, her vision blurry as she struggles to make out her surroundings. It's dark, bare for the spilling light of the moon shining overhead. She kicks away the furry object with her good leg. Letting out a pained grunt, she manages to finally free herself from the captive hold under which she'd been placed.

And then, Clarke looks up, only to stare into wide, black eyes.

The bear.

The bear is right in front of her and it's dead.

Its mouth is open, blood still leaking out from the puffy gums. Clarke gags when she sees the glint of metal protruding from the back of its neck and through its throat. Flecks of fleshy muscle and veins lay ripped up around the entrance of the lethal wound. Clarke swallows the vomit and blood in her throat as she slides away from the dead beast, her chest aching with each breath.

Wait. The sword. Lexa's sword, to be specific.

 _Lexa_.

Clarke nods her head up frantically, her eyes desperately searching for the commander in the darkness. She crawls away from the bear, ignoring the lancing pain in her leg as she slides through the muddy earth. She looks around for some sort of life, for the tall and slender form of the brunette, but she can't seem to find her. Clarke gasps again, tears filling her eyes as she looks to the bear. She reaches up with a dirty hand to swipe away at the salty drops, but it only smudges her vision even more.

"Lexa?" Clarke calls out once she's found her voice. It trembles and quivers, but it's there. "Lexa! Where are you?"

Silence answers back.

"No," Clarke gasps in a shuddering breath. "No, no, no… oh God, _no_!"

Clarke manages to get to her knees and crawl around the bear. She searches for what feels like hours until she finally hears a noise. She snaps her head upwards, her eyes keening for something that could be a hint towards the Commander's location.

But, what she gets is better than a hint.

What she gets is the actual Commander.

Clarke's lungs twist in agony when she sees Lexa's crumpled form laying a few feet from the bear, her body tangled in some roots. Her eyes are open, shining with fear and shock as blood burbles out of her mouth. Clarke stumbles forwards, trying to ignore how heart-wrenching Lexa's gaze is. She makes it over towards the Commander quickly, but when she arrives, she halts.

There's a root, approximately two feet long, impaling the Commander's side. Clarke gasps as Lexa's head subtly shakes, only to draw more blood out from the corner of her lips. Clarke slides in to the part of the brush not obstructed by spiny roots and grabs for Lexa's hand. She squeezes it in her own trembling one, trying to provide some semblance of comfort to the injured woman.

"It's okay, I'm here, we're okay," Clarke sobs as she sees Lexa's chest stutter, "hang in there, love. Don't pass out on me, Lex."

All that leaves Lexa's lips is a stuttered, " _Clarke_."

"I know," Clarke says as she swallows down her fear, "I know. I'm going to get us help. We can't be far from camp. I'll get Indra."

" _Nou_ ," Lexa whispers, her voice slurring as she switches into her native language. _"En ste nat, Klark. En…en's…"_

"No," Clarke breathes out as Lexa gurgles on her own blood. "I will find help. Just… we need a plan."

As if intent on making things worse, a rumble comes from the skies above. Both Clarke and Lexa look up, apprehensively watching as clouds start to form over head. The light of the moon soon gets obstructed and Clarke's worry intensifies. She glances back down to Lexa, only to see a sad expression of resignation laden on the older woman's face. Lexa's eyelids are drooping with fatigue, and Clarke knows that she's desperately trying to keep them open at this point.

" _Klark_ ," Lexa rasps softly, _"Klark, gon we. Ban ai op. Ai… biyo moba, ai niron. Ai gonplei ste odon."_

Clarke's face sets into a stern, determined frown. She grips Lexa's hand tighter, her voice low as she growls, " _nowe, Leksa._ "

Something flashes in Lexa's eyes, something that Clarke knows feels too much like sad acceptance muddled with worrying hope. Clarke looks back up at the sky and sets her jaw. "It's going to rain soon. We need to get you to cover." Clarke instantly regrets the words when she looks back down, because she knows that moving Lexa right now could result in her instant death. But, she also knows that if she doesn't move them to adequate shelter, she will die of the cold or even worse, an infection. Lexa nods slowly.

"A rocky ledge," Lexa chokes out, nodding her head to the space across from them. "Dry. Provides… cover."

Clarke nods and looks to the slaughtered bear beside them. "We can use the furs for warmth. First, we need to move."

Lexa sets her jaw determinedly when Clarke turns back to her. Both of their gazes go to the piece of wood sticking out from her abdomen. Lexa's eyes flit down to the awkward angle of Clarke's broken leg, and even Clarke doubts if they can do it. Not wanting to think about what ifs, Clarke thinks of the easiest way to move Lexa without incurring more blood loss. She sighs, glancing up.

"I have to break the wood," Clarke croaks as she glances to the splinter, "this… this is going to hurt, sweetheart."

Lexa takes a breath to steady herself, before she shuts her eyes and nods. "Do it."

Clarke doesn't bother warning Lexa when she reaches out and suddenly wrenches the wood in half. Lexa's scream is bloodcurdling, but Clarke pushes through as she wraps her arms under Lexa's torso and ease her upwards. It takes half a minute for her to snap the bottom half off, leaving the majority of the wood still inside. The two of them roll to the ground, with Clarke taking the brunt of the collapse so she can steady Lexa's trembling body. The Commander cries, her frame growing hot and feverish with the pain. More blood trails its way down her chin, sliding alongside her neck to paint her skin black.

"Almost there," Clarke encourages with a shaky smile, "just one last push, Heda. Stay with me, love. We're almost through this."

" _S-Sha_ ," Lexa gasps out as she lets Clarke pull her up. The two of them stumble over towards the rocky outpost, with Clarke's broken leg nearly collapsing under the weight of both of them. They get there eventually, sliding in as a crumpled heap. Instantly, Clarke bites down her own agony so that she can situate Lexa against the inside of the wall, leaving her upright. After placing both of Lexa's hands on the area around the wound to help stem the bleeding, Clarke rushes out to retrieve the furs off the bear.

Clarke skins a patch of unbloodied fur from the bear after taking the sword out from the bear's neck, holding back her gag as she gathers enough to keep them warm until the storm passes and help arrives. While she's out, she gathers some twigs and rocks for a fire. She returns to the cave with the items, her eyes casting their gaze worriedly over to where a pale-looking Lexa watches her.

"How long will the storm last?" Clarke asks as she makes preparations for the fire. She needs to keep Lexa awake and talking.

"Don't know," Lexa slurs in a tired mumble, "depends on… clouds… rain…"

"Hey," Clarke says as she abandons her fire pit and scrambles over to Lexa's side, "don't fall asleep. I know you're tired but I need you to stay awake. You're losing too much blood right now, Lexa, and I need you to stay awake. Do you hear me? If you love me, you'll stay awake. I need you, Lexa, and I need you because you are everything to me and I love you so, so much. Please, fight for us." Lexa doesn't reply in the form of words, but she lets out a pained grunt to let Clarke know that she's trying her best. Clarke reaches down for the older woman's hand and squeezes it, drawing a soft gasp out of Lexa. Clarke's eyes water with tears as she sees the pain festering in those green depths. Lexa's mouth parts and she starts to cough, her lungs wheezing with the effort.

"Ssh," Clarke soothes, though her voice trembles. "We just gotta make it through the night, _hodnes_. Stay with me."

Lexa nods again, her gaze starting to glass over as she stares at Clarke. While Clarke knows that Lexa will put all of her strength into the fight to stay alive, she knows that the wound is fatal. If they can't get help soon, there's a real chance these next few days will be Lexa's last. The thought is enough to draw a sob from her trembling lips, but she chokes it down and forces a smile.

"We can do this," Clarke whispers as she kisses Lexa's feverish, clammy forehead. _"Ste yuj, ai_   _houmon_. Fight it, Lexa."

Lexa swallows, her eyes set in a determined expression. "For you, Clarke, anything."

"Promise?" Clarke asks in a cracked voice. Lexa's eyes well with tears and she answers with another slight nod.

"Promise."

===

Promises are meant to be broken, and Clarke realizes it when two hours into the drizzling rain, Lexa falls unconscious.

===

Promises are meant to be broken, and Clarke hates it is when Lexa seizes twice as dawn starts to creep over the hills.

===

Promises are meant to be broken, and Clarke denies it when Lexa's breath stutters to halt just as the clouds start to part.

===

Promises are meant to be broken, and Clarke sobs it to Lexa's motionless body as warhorses charge through the forest.

===

Promises are meant to be broken, and Clarke accepts it when Indra sadly gazes down at her Heda as she finally passes out.

===

Promises are meant to be broken, but what Clarke doesn't realize is, not _this_  promise.

===

When Clarke opens her eyes, she finds herself laying not on a cold hard ground, but on downy furs and soft sheets. She blinks against the gentle sunlight that filters in through the blinds of the room in which she sleeps. She wants to feel comforted by the feeling of the familiarity of her sheets from her room in the capital, specifically the sheets she shares with Lexa. Tears burn in her eyes as she catches the familiar scent of Lexa coming from the pillow upon which her head rests. She gulps in a shuddering breath, her lungs aching and her head spinning with the heady smell of pine and lavender, the staple scent of her houmon.

And then it hits her. 

That's all she's got left.

If only she had listened to Lexa and kept her voice down in the forest. If only she had listened when Lexa told her that it wasn't safe to hunt. If only she had listened when Lexa pleaded for her to move quicker. If only she had listened to Lexa.

If only… and now…?

Clarke feels bile curl up in her throat as she turns onto her side. She scrambles to find the empty metal bin that she kept underneath the bed, just in case of an excess of alcohol intake at a party. She heaves up whatever is left in her stomach for God knows how long she'd been unconscious. Her ribs strain and crack with the effort, adding to her miserable, aching, defeated pain.

After she's finished, Clarke sets aside the bucket and stares up at the ceiling with tears prickling her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispers to the warm air of the room, "I'm sorry, Lexa."

"For what?" A soft voice answers back. Clarke's eyes blink open to see Raven standing in the doorway, her eyes bloodshot and worried. Clarke's lips tremble and her mouth parts as she struggles to sit up. Raven shakes her head and reaches her side in a matter of seconds, her firm hand easing Clarke back down. Her dark gaze is sympathetic and gentle, unlike her timid smile.

"I did this," Clarke croaks as more tears spill from her eyes, "I got her killed."

" _Nearly_ ," Raven nonchalantly corrects her with a nod, a hesitant smirk playing at her lips. "You nearly got her killed, yes."

Clarke is about to scream at Raven when her mind catches up on the words. Raven bites her lip and smiles wider.

"That's right, Princess. You nearly got her killed," Raven says in a light-hearted voice. "But she isn't dead yet. That woman is immortal, remember? Or at least close to it, I guess. Either way, she's still alive and kicking. Roughed up and sore, and the worst patient your mother has ever seen, which includes me by the way. She's worse than me, Clarke. And that's saying something."

Clarke honestly isn't paying much attention to Raven as she continues to ramble, mostly because she's still caught up on the first two statements. Lexa isn't dead? But then in the cave, when her breath stopped, when Clarke held her motionless body…?

"Abby was a few paces behind Indra," Raven explains when she sees the confusion and shock on Clarke's face. "She had the medical kit and managed to perform a rather impressive triage to get the Commander back into a decent fighting state so she had a chance once we got back to Polis. You passed out before any of it. Lucky for you we took the truck, but also that you guys fell literally meters away from the Southern Gate, right where the medical facilities are. You hit a massive stroke of luck, Princess." 

"Where is she?" Clarke gasps, tears stinging in her eyes. She tries to swing her legs off the bed, but Raven stops her again. The good-natured smirk is wiped clean now, and is instead replaced with a serious frown. Clarke trembles and Raven sighs.

"It's not that simple," Raven murmurs gently, "she's still in ICU, or whatever Grounders call their ICU. She tried to get up and find out about where you were and if you were okay. In the process, she ended up nearly tearing through one of her major arteries. Abby just barely got the bleeding stemmed and Lexa almost ruined all of it. Your wife is a stubborn ass. A stubborn ass with good intentions who loves you a lot, but an ass nonetheless. She's going to be okay, but no one is allowed in just yet." Clarke feels torn between wanting to punch Raven and wanting to hug her, and despite wanting tangible proof of Lexa's survival, she knows that Raven is right. If it's as bad as she says it is, seeing Lexa right now could only make things worse for both of them.

"Anyways, you should sleep." Raven's voice is mirthful and pulls her from her thoughts. "You're resting for two, Griff."

Clarke nods tiredly, her eyes glancing down to her stomach as she takes a deep breath. She looks back up to Raven, unable to ask the question that burns through her mind. Raven seems to get the non-verbal cue and offers her an affirming nod.

"Abby checked you out. The baby is fine," Raven tells her with a smile, "she's going to be a stubborn ass, like her mother."

For the first time since waking up, since seeing Lexa's assumedly dead body, Clarke allows herself a small laugh.

===

Clarke is allowed in a few days later, when Lexa's condition stabilizes and her leg heals. Luckily the break had been clean, and all she required was some crutches (which Raven gladly lent her) and a cast. She maneuvers around the hall of the medical facilities she and her mother had helped build after the war with the Ice Nation a few years ago. She and Lexa have been married for only two years, but their love has seen decades of different spirits and lives, of different times and different places.

Their love is timeless. Eternal. Immortal.

"Good to see you actually pay attention to orders," Abby snorts as Clarke walks into the ward where she'd been told Lexa was resting. Clarke manages a half-hearted smile at her mother, who looks both exhausted and proud at the same time. She comes up and wraps her arms around Clarke's shoulders, drawing her in for a hug. She kisses Clarke's crown and sighs warmly.

"She's gonna be up soon," Abby tells her with a soft smile, "she's in the second room."

Clarke nods and limps past her mother, eager to see her wife after so long of being apart. She braces herself for the image behind the curtain as she pulls it back. She keeps her stare glued to the ground even after the barrier is gone. She needs a minute.

And then, a moment later, Clarke can't hold back as she glances up.

Lexa looks smaller and thinner, more like a girl than a fearsome and ruthless commander of thirteen clans. Her facial features are relaxed and smoothed, causing something in Clarke's chest to twinge amicably. She doesn't hesitate to take a seat next to Lexa's bed. She leans her crutches up against the wall before plopping in the seat at Lexa's bedside. She reaches forward and takes her wife's hand in her own, holding it softly before raising it to her lips so she can dust a rain of soft kisses to those scarred knuckles.

"Mm," Lexa mumbles thickly in her sleep, her brows furrowing adorably, "not now, Titus."

Clarke suppresses a giggle as she continues her gentle kisses. Lexa groans again, shifting in her sleep.

"Titus, give me my hand back," Lexa continues to sleep talk in a grumpy mutter. "Titus, _no_. My hand belongs to Clarke."

"Is that so?" Clarke whispers, watching as Lexa twitches and whines softly in her sleep. "It's true, _hodnes_. It is yours. _I_ am yours."

Lexa seems to relax at that and Clarke's chest bursts with an immense amount of adoration for the woman laying before her. It takes a few more protested grumblings before Lexa's eyelids begin to flicker open, revealing glassy green eyes. Clarke smirks as she notices the immediate effects of morphine kick in, especially when Lexa sees her and breaks into a dopey, widespread grin.

"Clarke," Lexa hums as she beams over at the younger woman, "Clarke, you took my hand!"

"I did," Clarke confirms, trying and failing to hide her smirk. Lexa grins again, laying her head back on the soft pillow.

"Your fingers are small and soft," Lexa murmurs as she glances down to their intertwined palms. "They feel good in my hands."

"Better than Titus?" Clarke can't help but jest, holding back a laugh when Lexa's brow screws up and she scowls.

"Way better," Lexa drawls lazily, her eyelids drooping with fatigue. "Your hand is the only one I want to hold."

"Oh yeah," Clarke whispers, moving Lexa's hand from her lips to rest gently on her stomach. "What about hers?"

At this, Lexa's foggy gaze seems to clear marginally. Tears well up in the brunette's eyes as she follows the path of her arm to Clarke's stomach. An explosion of radiating affection bursts through every sore muscle in Clarke's body when she sees the awe and shock in Lexa's expression. Those long fingers lightly stroke over her belly, trembling as they feel the subtle bulge.

"Hers?" Lexa gasps softly, gazing back up to Clarke. "Our… she is… we did it?"

Clarke smiles and nods, unable to stop her tears from dripping down her cheeks. "We did, baby. Or should I say, _our_ baby."

"Ai _yongon_ ," Lexa breathes out in awe, her own eyes unable to hold back the tears. "We are having a child. A daughter…"

Clarke doesn't think that anything could ruin the moment, but then Raven crashes through the curtain, smirking proudly.

"I call dibs on being the Godmother," she chirps as she grins at the couple. "I need a new assistant, anyways." Clarke frowns.

"Our baby is not going to blow things up with you, Rae."

"But Lexa here promised me that she would give me her first born if I stopped making all her candles go boom," Raven says with an arched brow, glancing over to the drug-addled Commander giving her a befuddled, and rather sheepish look. Clarke glances over to Lexa, who tries to cower under the protection of her blankets to avoid Clarke's stare. The blonde rolls her eyes and sighs.

"Fine, but no bombs."

"Ten bombs."

"No."

"Five bombs."

"Raven, no."

"Fine, one bomb."

" _Raven_."

"What about a firecracker," Raven pouts as she gives Clarke her best puppy-dog eyes. "Just one small little firecracker?"

Clarke rolls her eyes again and sighs, waving her hand noncommittally at her best friend. Raven beams and tries to fist bump Lexa in celebration, but the Commander simply looks to her knuckles with a befuddled expression. This causes Raven to burst into a fit of giggles, which only exacerbates Lexa's confusion. Clarke gently strokes over Lexa's stilled fingers on her stomach, drawing her attention away from the excited mechanic. Lexa's gaze softens and reverts to, as Raven coined it, "Commander Heart-Eyes".

"Well," Raven says as she regains her composure, "that's my cue to leave. Don't die again, Commander. Next time it happens, I'm pretty sure Wanheda here will bring you back to life to kill you herself. Get better soon. I miss my best friends." Lexa doesn't even pay her any attention because her gaze is still trained on Clarke. Raven simply rolls her eyes and stands, sending Clarke a wink.

"I'll be back with some grub after y'all finish your eye-fucking, or eye-making-love, or whatever you sappy nerds do. Later kids," Raven grins as she waves over to Clarke before disappearing out of the room and sliding the curtain shut. Clarke sighs happily, glad that they're both back to their comfortable presence. Clarke looks into Lexa's hazy gaze and can't help her own dopey smile.

"What are you looking at, Heda?" Clarke asks softly, her thumb stroking over the fine hairs on the back of Lexa's wrist. Her wife waits a few moments before smiling back up at Clarke, her expression holding no walls or restraints. It's just pure, true Lexa.

"You are the most beautiful person on this planet," Lexa whispers gently, "and I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you."

Clarke blushes, tears welling in her eyes again. She clears her throat and smiles at her wife, her lips trembling.

"Promise?" Clarke asks, her voice hitching. Lexa's gaze softens even more as she nods and smiles.

"Promise."

===

Promises are meant to be broken, Clarke knows, but not Lexa's, not now, not ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Heda --> Commander.  
> Wanheda --> Commander of Death.  
> Niron --> Lover.  
> Hodnes --> Love.  
> Houmon --> Wife/Spouse.  
> En's ste nat --> It is nighttime.  
> Gon we --> Leave me.  
> Ai… biyo moba --> I… please forgive me.  
> Ai gonplei ste odon --> My fight is over.  
> Nowe --> Never.  
> Ai hod yu in --> I love you.  
> Ste yuj --> Be strong.


End file.
